


The truth hurts worse...

by otpsandglitter



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-14 12:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5743807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otpsandglitter/pseuds/otpsandglitter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Be clearly aware of the stars and infinity on high. Then life seems almost enchanted after all."<br/>~Vincent Van Gogh</p><p> </p><p>  Pete Wentz Kingston loves to overcompensate using his charisma. But he knows that he's a scared little kid who has given up on himself before and will again. He hates to be transparent but he knows he is.</p><p>  Mikey Way is a wallflower. He lurks on the outskirts of every crowd, too afraid to reveal who he is. So he keeps his mouth shut and tries to stay out of the limelight.</p><p>  But Mikey loves the way Pete notices him and burns deep into his eyes whenever they speak, Pete feels likewise. After one amazing night together, the boys know that what's between them is more than just infatuation. So they begin to fall into summer, into the sun drenched days and overcast nights, the motel stares and who they really are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

15th April 2005

{Mikey's POV}

 

Pete called me too early that morning. His named flashed on the screen of my phone as I frantically scrambled to answer it.

“Hey sweet lil dude!”  
His slightly sarcastic voice rang out through the tinny speakers of my phone.  
“Hey Pete,”  
I yawned.  
“Aww, did someone just wake up?”  
Maybe it was my imagination but he sounded slightly flirtatious.  
“Nah, ya don’t say?”  
I was getting annoyed by this point, we hadn’t hung out in at least a year, why was he calling me at an ungodly hour of the morning?  
“Ok, I’ll tell you why I called.”  
I sighed, how did he read my fucking mind like that?  
“Basically, me and the guys are performing at this joint called ‘The Factory’ in Fort Lauderdale tonight and I heard you guys were around here too so I was wondering if maybe we could hang out tonight?”  
Pete suggested hopefully.  
“Yeah, sounds great! Should I bring Frank, Ray and Gerard too?”  
“Uh ok, if you want.”  
Pete’s voice sounded disappointed and seemed to drop down an octave.  
“Okay, we’ll see you there!”  
I chimed.  
“Yeah and…”  
His voice trailed off.  
“What?”  
“Nothing duke of handsome, I’ll see you tonight!”  
His voice perked up but only slightly.  
He hung up the phone.

“You totally want to fuck him!”  
Gerard teases as I furiously apply eyeliner in front of a mirror [how the hell does Pete do this so easily?]  
“Shut up man! Or should I bring up Frerard?”  
Gerard grins.  
“So you’re a hundred percent not attracted to Pete Wentz or the male gender?”  
“A hundred and twenty percent.”  
I whisper reluctantly. Gerard grabs the eyeliner from me and cackles.  
“I detect bullshit!”  
“What makes you an expert on who I want to fuck?”  
I moan like a little kid who’s just been told to go to bed.  
“Well you spent practically all day choosing what to wear, before finally deciding on the Clandestine Industries hoodie which I’ve never see you wear, you freaked out over us not embarrassing you in front of Fall Out Boy and I’m not even going to mention the boner you’ve had all afternoon,”  
Gerard laughs and I hit him on the shoulder playfully in response.

After me and the guys take about a century to get ready, we get into our beloved van and head over to the venue. Frank, Gerard, Ray and Bob are in a heated debate about the existence of aliens but I’m just lying my head on the leather armrest. I have a headache now. A really bad one.

Am I actually gay?  
Am I actually into Pete motherfucking Wentz?

Pete Wentz; the dude who noticed me first. You see, sometimes I feel overshadowed by my bandmates, I’ve always been a quiet dude so I don’t speak up much and Gerard has always been the one who loves the limelight. No one ever notices me first but Pete did, Pete chose me to talk to out of every guy in the entire room, out of all of my other more extroverted bandmates. He made me feel like the most important guy in the world. The way he looked at me totally consumed into every word I said, how I opened up myself to him and told him my most stupid thoughts and how he opened himself to me. I’m reading too much into this, he’s a charismatic guy, he probably makes everyone feel like that.

But I’ve never felt like this before…

It’s so intense, every time I see him, hear his voice or hear his name something inside me heats up, it’s so cheesy and it sounds like every fucking cliche but I’m addicted to the way that boy makes me feel. It’s like I lose my mind for a brief second then come back down to earth.

My stomach churns and I sigh as I look out the window at the city lights. They gleam onto the horizon, their vibrant lights burn into both my retina and mind, the city is totally starless and I know that I’ll remember this night forever.


	2. ~I read about the afterlife but I never really lived [until I met you]~

{Pete's POV}

My face crashes into a wall of humid Orlando air as we get out of our van. Dizziness from the ride blinds me and I stumble around.  
“Hey man, are you okay?”  
Patrick asks as Joe and Andy shoot me worried glances. I sigh, they’ve been like that since the attempt.  
“Yeah I’m fine guys, I’m just a little dizzy but super pumped to play tonight!”  
I fake enthusiasm and maybe try too hard. The boys glance at each other briefly and an awkward silence ensues.  
“Let’s get this party started!”  
Joe breaks the silence.  
“So let’s get this party started!”  
We all yell in unison. We’re not drunk yet but we’re already belting out words from our own songs, every passerby probably thinks we’re insane, arrogant emo boys, but we’re hoping that will change when we release the record.

It’s called ‘From Under The Cork Tree’ and it was a pretty personal album for me. I was pretty suicidal for a majority of the recordings and it caused a heap of tension for us all. Most of the recording sessions ended in me and Patrick fighting, normally over something stupid and Joe and Andy had to practically drag us away. But it was worth it! Apparently there are two singles on the album except the big shot producers didn’t like one of the tracks, it’s called ‘Sugar We’re Going Down’ and he says it’s too wordy to be a hit but oh well, it’s not our best. 

Anyway, that doesn’t matter tonight, none of our past matters when we’re up on stage and the kids are screaming hysterically to every word we sing and every note we play. 

We did the sound check earlier and everything seems okay so I guess we can just chill backstage until then I guess. The backstage area is standard for a place like this, a black mini fridge [and everything must be black] filled with beers and a pepsi [Patrick will drink the pepsi to be polite], a dressing table with theatrical lights around the mirror and a TV for god knows what. The sickly yellow wall paper seems to be staring itself down and the plastic chairs were obviously manufactured for four year olds. I sigh heavily, it’s such a classic backstage dressing room that it’s ironic. We’ve played these shows every night for a while now and it’s always the same; Andy will punch someone [probably a weedy dude who studies ‘Freud’ or whatever], Joe will do something to shock us, Patrick will be hammered but still polite and I may or may not sleep with someone to get back at Her.

But for now the aftermath of the show is just a vague deja vu because before that we’ll be on stage, playing our songs and getting drenched in a layer of sweat. The kids will scream along the words to anything we sing and for a while I’ll forget about the mess that is me.


	3. ~ When you pull my hips this close volume goes with the truth ~

{Mikey's POV}

As we walk down the shabby hallways my heart pounds against my chest like it’s trying to escape to get closer to Pete. Frank’s fist knocks on their door and all I can hear is a little voice in my ear whispering Pete’s name. I mentally curse myself for being so gay as Joe opens the door. 

 

“Hey guys!”  
Joe greets us with a huge grin that seems to be plastered on. He hasn’t really got to know us yet and I can tell. Patrick comes to the door too. I can tell it’s for Pete’s sake. I step inside the arch of the door gingerly, what’s wrong with me? Why can’t I stop looking at his double loose grin?

His teeth are like tiny pearls and his tongue pokes out of his mouth somewhat sexually. It makes me melt on the spot. His hot amber eyes are staring me up and down as if he’s deciding whether to invite me into his life and his lips are luscious. Kissable. Did I just think that about a guy? His dark hair flops lazily over his eyes and is primarily hidden by his gray hoodie. I want him.

He walks over to me. 

“Hey sweet little dude!”  
I cringe at the ‘gang’ we created last Warped Tour. It’s basically this gang for sweet little dudes like us.   
“Hey man!”  
His eye glints as we just stare at each other for a while.  
“You excited for the show tonight?”  
My speech slurs and my palms are sweaty, the room has just gotten a whole lot warmer within a matter of seconds.  
“Yeah, it’s always good on stage y’know? It feels like you can be someone new for a while.”  
Pete says forlornly. I know exactly what he means. In those infinite seconds he looks so small and sad that I want to protect him.  
“I know how you feel, Pete.”  
I look into his cosmic eyes and blush. In the heat of the moment, I feel as if we must kiss, as if a cosmic force is compelling us to. I feel my body drawing in closer and closer but I manage to restrain myself and just touch his shoulder comfortingly. It’s sweltering. From just one touch I feel this way, one single hand on his shoulder makes me shudder and makes my heart pound. I gaze at my shoes then up to him, his face is blank but he’s sweating so much. He winces and I look down. He has a boner. Pete motherfucking Wentz has a hard on for me. For me, another face in a crowd. Our silence is uncomfortable but not quite awkward. I draw my hand off his shoulder.

“Sorry, I have to go now, we’ll catch up after the show.”  
He blurts this out and the shy smile and red cheeks suit him so well. The band walk onto the stage with the necks of their guitars in the palms of their hands and the heat from my cheeks spreads to between my legs. 

Frank grins.  
“I saw you and Pete having a little moment back there!”  
He whispers this to me and winks slyly.  
“Shut up! Okay, just keep quiet, I don’t want everyone to know!”  
I state furiously.  
“Okay, whatever you say sweet little dude!”  
Frank chuckles. I know he’s joking, me and the guys have banter like this all the time so it’s nothing new but for using something that me and Pete have together makes me want to punch him in the face so many times that his red eyeshadow doesn’t seem so unatural anymore.


	4. ~ The bittersweet [after] life of the party ~

{Pete’s POV}

The bar is shabby. I’m tuned out. I know exactly who I’m waiting for to show up but I don’t admit it to myself. I’ve been watching him from afar since last summer, purely because of my addiction to him. It’s so hard to explain why I feel this way. Maybe it’s his wide eyed gaze, the way he listens to every stupid thought that comes out of my mouth intently or the irresistible way his glasses fall onto his face. It’s so stupid to think he’d fall for me, but I can’t stop myself falling for him. 

I can’t forgive myself for the encounter we had before we went on stage, I should’ve controlled myself, I should’ve been less gay. He’s probably disgusted now. Andy sits next to me and nods. Andy isn’t the most talkative guy but we’ve always had this unspoken bond. 

“Hey man.”  
I say softly. Andy nods then shocks me by speaking.  
“Look dude, I know it’s been hard for you and it’s such a cliche but things will get better and this summer will be the best ever. I know I can’t promise it but I’ll try my best to make it better, for you and that sounds so gay but you’re like my brother and I promise you’ll get better!”

If anyone else told me that I’d think it was cheesy but it’s the most Andy has said in a while and somehow it means the world to me.

“Thanks man, wow I don’t know what to say but that really meant a lot to me!” The smile feels genuine for once as I bury my face into his shoulder. We hug for a brief second then Andy gets up and walks away, but he nods and stares at me for one second more. 

I sit there staring into space for a while before heaving my bones up to get a drink. The bar area is just as shabby as the rest of this joint. The stool squeaks as I sit down and order a drink, I want to get drunk, extremely drunk but for once I don’t want to sleep with anyone. Except for him, my forbidden desire. 

“You look sad dude, what’s up?”  
The craggy old barman awakens me from my thoughts.  
“Oh, um just lust problems-“  
“What lust problems?”  
I am immediately interrupted by someone, I turn my head rapidly to see the biggest hazel eyes staring down at me.  
“Hey Mikey,”  
I tremble.  
“What brings you here?”  
“Well, my sweet little dude is in town and we need to make the most of it!”  
He bubbles excitedly, it’s almost as if he doesn’t remember earlier, but I know he does.  
I flash him a wild grin as he sits down and I stare at his ass. It’s a nice ass, perfectly proportioned. Fuck. Why am I thinking about guys in that way again?


	5. ~Allow me to exaggerate a memory or two [stupid curse of lust]~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just a little gay origin story for Pete :) Hopefully Mikey will have one too! The chapters will gradually get longer.

I’ve felt like this for god knows how long. I think it started in high school. I was fourteen and I had just started my first band, we’d tool around on our instruments every Friday night then go to some lame party if we could be bothered. It would be different every rehearsal but I could count on one thing, one tiny staple of consistency, I could count on the fact that Cody would be there.

I can’t even remember why he was always there, looking back I’m pretty sure that he was the drummer’s friend. All I know for sure was that he baby blue eyes made me melt and I wanted, more than anything in the world, to find out what made Cody melt. He was nicotine for me, he’d make me feel higher than any of those dodgy pills we took back then did but he’d also cause a lot of sleepless nights for me. The way his blonde hair flipped over his aquamarine eyes was all I dreamed about back then.

Some nights me and Cody would go to a house party. It was a shit place, one of those parties for guys who bullied music dorks like me. Looking back, I think one of the band members had a connection with the jocks which gave us a free pass to these parties. They were normally at some rich kids house and they’d play some crappy dubstep, it definitely wasn’t my scene but I tried my best to enjoy it as much as Cody did.  
He was on the football team, probably one of the biggest jocks in school but I saw something in him. I was the one he told about how he wrote poems and played guitar, how he was a hopeless dreamer, how he watched chicflixs sometimes and often cried at the end. 

I can remember the night I kissed him like it was yesterday. I’ve buried that memory many times but it’s dear to my heart, like a security blanket. The night was warm, it was early July and Hank [another jock] was throwing a party. Me and Cody had phoned each other the night before and it was arranged that I picked him up and we walked there together. We were giddy with excitement as we walked down the pitch black street, lit by the faux golden light of the lampposts. It pains me to say that I can’t remember what we were talking about, probably some lame banter. The part of town that Hank lived in was going through an art deco era. There was this one abandoned house at the beginning of the road.

It was ramshackle and certainly did not accommodate the aesthetic vibe of the neighbourhood. Apparently it had been bought by investors and for the last decade it had been left to decay. Junkies hung out there in the day but at night it was deserted, except for the flickering glow from the torchlight which for reasons unknown was always left on, even after the house had been abandoned. 

Me and Cody were in front of this house when we stopped in our tracks. To this day I don’t know why I froze, it was something compelling me. Once we were standing there I couldn't stop myself, I dragged Cody by the arm to the porch and leaned in and kissed him. He tasted like the warmest thing I’ve ever known and as our lips pulled close, his world was in perfect harmony with mine. I gasped and clasped his ass in my hand, I felt him shudder with pleasure as our lips began to play in sync with each other. It takes an eternity but eventually we pull away from each other.

“Hey that was great but we gotta go, to be continued?”  
His voice was like comfort food. I nod aimlessly and then we continue our walk. It’s like it never happened but it did and I couldn’t be happier.

The party itself was okay, it wasn’t anything special but Cody had kissed me and that made it the best party ever. Both of us knew that if we outwardly displayed affection our reputation would be ruined so we were discrete, we’d just rest our hands on each other’s thighs under tables and stare at each other longingly from across the packed and sweaty room. Then at what seemed like the end of the night we grabbed my hand and dragged me into the spare bedroom. 

As soon as we shut the door we began to make out again, this time Cody tasted of beer and sweat and his face was soaking wet. I clasped him close as my teen heart began to beat faster. Our racing hearts pounded in time to each other and I ran my fingers through his smooth hair. 

“Mmmh Cody,”  
He responded to my cryptic statement by moving towards the bed. My body jolted as I hit the spongey mattress of the king sized bed. Cody was lying on top of me and as I pulled my Metallica shirt over my head his hands scrambled with my belt.

“I love you Cody.”  
I gasped.  
“I know Pete.”  
He moaned and we began to grind. I orgasmed and it was the most thrilling thing ever, I had done it with some girls but this, let’s just say it doesn’t get any better than grinding with your gay high school crush. We were so drunk and young and stupid that we didn’t hear the door. It was Hank and his friends Chad and Tyler. 

“Hey Cody you scored-oh my god is that a dude?”  
Hank’s praised turned into a jeer and they all started laughing. I’ll take Cody’s facial expression to my grave. It was a mix of fear, anger [at both me and the jocks] and disgust [just at me].

“It was a mistake!”  
Cody yelled angrily as his voice trembled.  
“Pete seduced me, I mean I’m not gay!”

I shook with fury and betrayal, how could Cody do this to me? I though that he loved me. For the second time that day I was breathless but in a whole different way. My vision got blurry.

“I never want to see you again Pete. You're a-you’re a faggot.”

He shuddered with disgust at me. 

I ran out the house sobbing as the chant of ‘queer’ filled my ears. I don’t care though. I don’t care. I don’t even like penis anyway.

I don’t care about Cody’s stupid grin, I don’t care about Mikey’s floppy hair or the glint in his eye, I don’t care about how Mikey or Cody make me feel or how the warmth from my cheeks goes to my legs when they were close. I don’t care, I am a heterosexual male who doesn’t like penis and I will be able to deal with this stupid curse of lust.


	6. ~ I swear, I say ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where things start to get heated! I know this has been a somewhat slow burning fic but there will be smut. The smut isn't talked about in great detail in this chapter but it will be described better in some of the later ones but this fic is fluff for the most part. Thanks to the people who are fans of this humble fic because it means a lot! I'm also working on a Ryden, Frerard AND a Bubbline fic so when I start uploading those, try to check them out :)

{Mikey’s POV}

“Um…Well I’m sorry about what happened earlier.”  
Pete bows his head in shame.  
“Nah man it’s okay, I was um…flattered,”  
I desperately try to save the situation by saying the stupidest thing. Pete chuckles and looks at me like he finds my disposition the cutest thing in the world.   
We serenade each other with small talk in the pale lighting of the damp room. I fucking hate small talk. I don’t want to know if someone ‘is okay?’, I don’t want to talk about the weather. I know it’s insane in this awkward society of hushed greetings, but I don’t give a single damn about the weather. I want to talk about who Pete really is. I want to talk about the childhood monsters under his bed, what he wrestles every night when the lights go out and the city lights up, I want to know his favorite scent, I want to know where his obscure lyrics root from and what he fears. But no, people aren’t like that with me. Definitely with Gerard and Frank and I know that Ray and Bob have had their fair share of deep conversations but me? I guess I’m more of a small talk person and I detest that. 

We’ve been exchanging glances for as long as this break in the conversation has lasted {which feels like an eternity} and I feel like now would be the perfect time to pull him close and let him unleash his venom onto my lips and tongue. But being Mikey Way, I just glance down at my now lukewarm beer and clear my throat.

“Hey, is it okay if we talk some more, but like proper talk. This small talk shit makes things awkward and I want to know about you, who you really are.”  
Pete stammers. Oh my god. This is the biggest fucking cliche in the world, the biggest fucking fairytale ending and I’m part of it for once.

“Uh, yeah, I like that kind of conversation too.”  
I swallow. Then the awkwardness is gone and suddenly we’re talking. Pete tells me about Chicago, about the guys in his band, about how the band nearly broke up four times during the recording of their first studio album and about how he’d fight with Patrick sometimes. Then it gets darker, he pours his heart out to me about the break up with Her that hurt him for so long, about how one day she called him up to tell him it was officially over and how he felt to weak to die for love, then he smashed his mirror and downed some pills. Tears sting my eyes, I want to protect him, I never want him to feel this way again. He tells me about the lonely days in NYC, the hotel in LA that he stayed in whilst writing his latest album with the guys and how he can’t bring himself to sell off his first apartment. 

“The dude who worked with us on ‘Take This To Your Grave’ was a total pothead according to the guys, but we used to beg him for bread, peanut butter and jelly so we could y’know, eat.”

Pete’s chuckle is warm and poisonous.

“But we slept on Andy’s girl’s floor most of the time while recording and me and Patrick fought a ton. Like you know that downbeat in ‘Sending Postcards From A Planecrash’?’

I don’t but I nod anyway.

“We had a huge argument over that one downbeat, Patrick got a nosebleed.”  
Pete laughs hysterically.

“You’re mean dude!”

I try to sound funny but I come off as childish, Pete laughs anyway.

“So despite our fights and sleeping on floors during the recording of ‘Take This To Your Grave’, we made it through and it didn’t do bad, we have high hopes for the new record too- Sorry Mikey, I’m ruining this whole thing.”

Pete sighs exasperated.

“No Pete, it’s okay, I found it interesting,”

His eyes spark irresistably. 

 

Then when I’m drunk enough I start talking. I talk about New Jersey and growing up there and the band. About how Bob sometimes tells me to assert myself more and how I got bullied at school for being the fat kid with glasses.

“Once in Kindergarten they asked us what we wanted to do when we were older and I wrote that I wanted to wear a hat, I failed that assignment but I’ve lived with that mentality ever since. I always like to take it a minute at a time, an action at a time so the world seems an awful lot less overwhelming.”

I pause, Pete’s probably bored to death. However when I look at him, he’s tuned into every word, he’s listening intently to everything I say, every stupid thing I say. 

“I think that mentality is pretty great, I wish I knew that earlier.”

Pete stares into the distance and puffs on the air like he’s holding a tragic cigarette. 

That’s it. I’m done. This man can do whatever he wants to me, he can leave me, teach me and hurt me and I’ll still come running back to him. He can cheat, lie and make my life a misery, but I’ll still love him. I’ll still love the embers in his eyes, his floppy hair and him. I want Pete Wentz to ruin me. I want him to love me.

In a leap of faith I grab his hand and look into his eyes.

“Pete, I-I think I might be falling for you,”  
I stammer.

“Let’s go somewhere quieter if you’re going to be that upfront about it!”  
Pete teases flirtily and as we get up the bartender gives us a creeped out scowl.

“Gay.”  
He murmurs under his breath. 

“Gay is not a synonym for shitty,”  
Pete laughs but his laugh has a malicious edge to it.

We run out the room and head to the upstairs area. Last time we played here I knew there were beds, but I never imagined I’d be using them for this. My head is melting with questions. Why would Pete fall for me? Will I be any good at this? Why am I falling for Pete? The thoughts evaporate with the sound of the doorknob turning, we’ve arrived at the room. I briefly glance at the inside of the bedroom.

The design of the walls are a sort of steampunk or vintage thing. A king size bed with crimson sheets takes centre stage but is accompanied by a dressing room table and mirror and a azure couch. Then he kisses me.

His kiss is poison. It tastes warm, it tastes like vodka with just a dash of cherry chapstick. He’s grabbing my butt and I’m clinging onto his waist. It’s so poisonous, I can’t think straight and I’m delirious but I love it. I’m sliding off my black skinny jeans and Pete helps me unbuckle my belt. It's happening and I couldn’t be more happy and afraid at the same time.


End file.
